Earnestly, Erna

Archive for January 2009

It all makes sense now

January 19, 2009 Personal One comment

Sometimes it takes all the pieces of the puzzle to come together.

For life, the occasional bitch that it is, can only be understood backwards but we must live it forward as a Danish philosopher said.

Click. Set. Match.

I see now. I understand. There can be no more grieving. Nothing good could have come of it. Doomed from the start by a lie. The signs, I saw them. They didn’t make sense to me then. Now they do. As clearly written as if the stars themselves spelled them out in the sky. Cassandra is no longer blind, and refuses to suffer Medea’s fate.

Don’t stop. Don’t walk. Run. Flee. Fly.

Perhaps this is what it takes to finally get me to spread my wings and brave the heights I’ve avoided. And enjoy, not fear, riding in Artemis’s chariot for a while.

I need a break

January 18, 2009 Personal No comments

Am I burnt out from the new job already?

No. I need a break from relationships.

I’m single. I’ve been single for 2 weeks. Not the longest I’ve been single, but it still takes some getting used to. Coming out of a 4 year relationship, straight into seeing someone for an alternately enchanting/soul-destroying month was not wise on hindsight.

As The Fool said to Fitz, when it comes to matters of the heart: “I have never been wise.”

And most of my friends agree that right now, the last thing I need is a man. Because all the ones I’ve been getting have added drama to my life, cracks to my heart and more tears than my cup should hold.

“You need a break.” Yes, my friends, I guess I do.

I’ve got a great job, which I’m getting used to, and am still excited about.

I’m in the midst of getting my driving license – the experience is definitely going to be fodder for plenty of blog posts.

There’s so much other stuff I want to do like learn a new language, get more than basically proficient on the guitar, lose the 5kg I have left to lose, cook more, read my unread books, climb Kinabalu…never-ending, really.

At least I found time to make a new header for my blog, get my work table sorted, and did something about the mini-jungle that is my lawn. Tomorrow will be spending an interesting day in KLPAC, despite my utter dislike for its location. But the place is beautiful, and spacious, and if it was more accessible I’d love to spend a whole day there doing absolutely nothing.

But the main reason I’ll be there is that the people I love will be. That’s the best reason to be anywhere, I think.

I’m OK now

January 16, 2009 Personal 2 comments

Hi, baby.

I miss calling you that.

But right now, I don’t feel angry. Or hurt. Or spurned. Or jealous. Or small. Or unworthy.

I’ve gone through the whole gamut of emotions. Burned one of my friend’s ears off with my angst. But hey, he was returning the favour from last year.

I’m sorry I’ve been snarky, and biting, and somewhat mean. But you’ve also patiently put up with my emo SMSes, my whiny IMs, and you could have shut me out. And you didn’t.

We both could have attempted to just cut each other out of our lives – and prolonged the angst and made it awkward. But you kept your promise. You didn’t leave.

The way I live life, I tend to throw or give away stuff when I can. Else there’d be no room for anything new. I’m hoping that by letting go of this painful attachment to what we had, I’ll be free of the other baggage following me:

Like the married ex-colleague who won’t leave me alone. You’re married with two kids, for crying out loud.
The ex-flame, Peter Pan wild child. I’m not picking up your calls because I don’t want to talk to you. We tried being friends again; it didn’t work. You’re still you – self-absorbed, selfish and a child.
The ex-boyfriend. Honey, I love you. But you don’t even know what you want, or where you’re going. I can’t spend the rest of my life waiting for you to figure yourself out. So don’t make me make you promises when you can’t keep your word. After four years, I need more than you waiting for God to tell you what to do.

So my soul feels lightened, my heart is no longer mumbling in the middle of the night. I can start singing again, and laughing like I mean it.

This isn’t goodbye, baby. Just hello again, friend.

That first pitch

January 16, 2009 Public Relations One comment

Let me tell you a secret.

I am secretly phobic of calling up absolute strangers.

And non-strangers.

Unless I’ve known you donkey’s years, I am very likely not calling you, not because I dislike you, but because I am secretly terrified. Over the years, though, I’ve tempered that fear somewhat and if it’s just calling the gas man, the plumber, or Maxis Wireless Internet then I’m fine. Mostly I call the latter to yell at them. Long story.

Unfortunately my job requires me not only to call people I don’t know personally, but to bounce story ideas off them.

Guess what I had to do yesterday?

So I called up a certain editor, at a certain newspaper, about a pitch, and I wondered if she could just hear or feel the nervousness coming off me in waves.

Maybe she did. But whether she did or not, she was pleasant, kind and very interested in the angle.

Of course she also made a few enquiries that made me squirm about answering; she certainly has her journalistic instincts intact.

The policy at The Agency is we never promise the impossible, but what we do promise, we deliver.

The last thing I wanted to do was promise said editor things I couldn’t give her/her writer.

Said editor was awesome, and surprisingly patient when I tumbled over my sentences.

Had to call her again today, and it was a great phone call. Fingers crossed at the results of said call, but I’m glad that my first pitch didn’t end up in utter disaster.

The worst thing that could have happened was that she hang up on me.

Which would require me to repeat the whole cycle and call her again.

I now wish I was a little less curt with all those PR noobs and interns when they called me up about releases. But then, those other agencies really shouldn’t have those people call me up just to ask if I’ve received a fax.

But that’s a whole other story.

Where you draw the line

January 15, 2009 Musings, Personal One comment

The blog started out as a personal blog. And though I fully intended to make this a blog mostly about my job change and the differing viewpoints from PR and tech journalism, there’s a reason why it’s called Earnestly Speaking.

“Erna” means “earnest” and I’ve always done my best to be earnest in my dealings and work. Like it or not, I feel a lot. And that depth of feeling coupled with my weird empathy makes me who and what I am. So occasionally I will drift into the odd post where I will talk about my feelings.

“Why not just put it in a private journal and be done with it?”

Because, for some reason, it’s not my tech posts, my tutorials, my so-called-wit (haha) that gets quoted.

It’s those posts I write in the middle of the night, or late in the evening, when I’m feeling so much I have to channel it somewhere. From the tears, from the sorrow, from the pain, I articulate all that into metaphor or pretty prose. And somehow those words travel and find their way to someone.

So perhaps my pain has a purpose. Perhaps my misery has some benefit. If I can create something out of the emptiness I feel and help someone understand that Yes, I understand.

Everybody hurts.

I know what it’s like to hurt so much you can’t function. That you cannot sleep, eat or think of anything but the pain. Where you swallow pretty pills and talk to white coats, because you need to feel better. Where your own body rebels against you and your own brain tries to kill you, because it just wants not to hurt.

You just want someone to acknowledge that Yes, it hurts.

I know it does. And I know that all you can think of is making it stop hurting. I cannot hold your hand from here, but I can give you my words. I can tell you that I know. I understand.

I care.

A different kind of reporting

January 14, 2009 Personal, Public Relations One comment

makan Because I can, am torturing you with a picture from my last Christmas dinner at The Mag. It was a relatively painless last month because there was very little to hand over, and practically next to no reporting. Did a couple of reviews and news posts and that was basically it.

Now I’m finding myself doing a different kind of reporting – the weekly client media monitoring. I remember having to cut out insurance-related reports when I was doing corporate comms for an insurance firm. Thankfully in this Net-related age, I can find links instead of resorting to the scissors.

As an editor, I did find myself scouring the Net often to keep abreast of trends. Now my searches will be somewhat more focused and I’ll need to be even more immersed in the Internet information stream. But then there’ll be the challenge of not getting too caught up in research to do things like network, strategise and get down to the not-so-glamorous bits of my job like reporting.

In other news, I was saddened to find out one of my favourite bloggers and inspirations while I was still learning to be an editor got laid off. Magazine Man’s one blogger I recommended to anyone in the publishing line, who both entertained and educated me with his witty, laugh-out-loud hilarious posts on life and writing as a vocation. I hope that this experience is a blessing in disguise, and that he moves on to bigger, better things.

Also logged on to Technorati to update my blog’s profile and was pleasantly surprised to find this post which quoted from a soppy blogpost I made not too long ago.

“To love means not to suffocate them in your affection, resisting the urge to hold them tightly in a blanket of care. It means giving them space to move, to breathe, to decide. Love is freedom, not compulsion. To love also means to wait in the wings, resisting the urge to run to your loved ones when they stumble. Instead, you wait with open arms, knowing full well that you will just as likely be turned away. But you wait anyway, because that is what it means to love.”

I remember telling the last guy I dated when we ‘broke up’ that “I don’t love you, but I could have.” Been a week since we parted ways and it’s still hard to get over the hurt. It’s funny that while I was cleaning up my photos, that I could smile at old pictures of my ex-fiance but when I looked at this one picture of MFM, I felt my chest start to constrict. The wounds are still too raw and I’m still counting every day. 11 days since he left, 4 days since I last texted him, 4 days that I managed not to call or bug him on IM. He did me a favour by breaking up with me before I started my new job – I threw myself into the job wholeheartedly and didn’t have to think about his distance, his secrets, his baggage.

And I want to hate him, to denigrate him, to paint an unflattering picture of him in my mind. But I miss his voice, his silly habits, the way we’d think or say the same things at the same time. How soft his hair was when I ran my fingers through it and the way he’d pout. I miss him saying “Yes, dear.” I miss his almost fascist food leanings that extended to taste and water. I miss how happy I was when we actually were spending time together.

But I don’t miss the times in between, when everything was a stupid complicated mess. And I knew even then he’d never love me, and that it would all fall to pieces eventually. When you’re with someone, and you know someone or something else is always on his mind even when he’s with you, you know there is nothing to hope for. But for one more minute, one more breath, one more night, one more morning, one more smile, one more second before you say goodbye.

I thought it would hurt less because I came in with no expectations. But I guess I was wrong. The day comes, I greet it with hope and fill the day with plans and thought. But at night as I grow tired, I find myself broken just before I go to sleep. There is no comfort for me in that brief stillness before sleep finds me – only a searing loneliness from memories not quite cast off.

Tomorrow is another day, I tell myself. And it is.

Was there any doubt?

January 12, 2009 Angelina Jolie No comments

Golden Globes. Angelina looks gorgeous. Of course. Love the hair (shiny), love the dress (simple, elegant, understated) and love the very toned down makeup and relaxed vibe.

Not as keen on the arm accessory, but you can’t have it all.

Can an introvert do PR?

January 11, 2009 Musings, Public Relations 3 comments

Suanie, Reta and me Omnia mutantur, nihil interit – Everything changes, Nothing is lost

It’s been a rollercoaster week. As my spiritual mentor says, sometimes it’s better to jump first and fear later. So I’ve pretty much immersed myself into PR and taken the 180 degree turn in stride.

There were comments I was unnaturally super-perky and happy at the Nokia 5800 event, one I attended as a guest instead of media.

The thing is, most people who know me know I’m very much introverted. I do like people, and have a tendency towards empathy and compassion but to be honest, crowds can overwhelm me and I value my solitude. Which can confuse people who’ve seen the quiet, reserved me and then have to deal with Ms. Suddenly Sunshine. Really I’m just a dog in a cat’s body – I’ll be skittish as a cat at first but when my guards are down, I’m as affectionate as a golden retriever.

Again I find the MBTI my best way to explain my duality (bold parts are my own):

“ (INFJS)… sometimes mistaken for extroverts because they appear so outgoing and are so genuinely interested in people — a product of the Feeling function they most readily show to the world. On the contrary, INFJs are true introverts, who can only be emotionally intimate and fulfilled with a chosen few from among their long- term friends and family…at intervals INFJs will suddenly withdraw into themselves, sometimes shutting out even their intimates. This apparent paradox is a necessary escape valve for them, providing both time to rebuild their depleted resources and a filter to prevent the emotional overload to which they are so susceptible as inherent "givers". As a pattern of behavior, it is perhaps the most confusing aspect of the enigmatic INFJ character to outsiders, and hence the most often misunderstood.” – from the INFJ profile by Marina Margaret Heiss.

It’s just my inability to pretend to give a damn about people. I never pretend. I can’t fake insincerity to save my life; yes, I can be snarky and have an evil sense of humour. But when I ask you if you need a drink, and if you’re feeling all right, it’s because I really do worry if you’re cold, tired or hungry. And if I don’t ask you, doesn’t mean I don’t care either. I could just be feeling tired, preoccupied or emotionally overwhelmed at that precise moment. Faked politeness and niceties aren’t built into my DNA, unfortunately.

When I ask you how you are, I really do want to know. But I’ve been around enough to understand that most people ask because they don’t know what else to say. So my default answer is “Doing OK, thanks.”

And to answer the question and Nigel’s qualms…I really was happy at the Nokia event. Had been waiting on the phone to launch forever, a lot of my friends in tech media and the blogosphere were there, I love Nokia’s reps who have always been warm and fun to talk to and of course, I love the Texties. Not to mention it’s been an amazing week where work is concerned.

I have God, my loved ones, my health and a lot to do and be excited about. So maybe my heart still bleeds a little in the middle of the night. But I can’t dwell on loss forever; in the darkness, I can still smile at the stars.

Timesheets – so I’ll be accountable. To me.

January 9, 2009 Public Relations, Self-Organisation One comment

I know plenty of programmers, PR people and other people who have ‘billable hours’ hate timesheets.

So why am I making myself start on timesheets? Especially when I haven’t been asked to?

Well, it’s so I know what I’ve been doing and to keep me accountable. It’s too easy to be distracted by all the online temptations I’ve been used to while I was working. My last job, I needed those distractions. You do not churn out articles by staring at the screen until your forehead drips blood. Writing is a somewhat subconscious activity. You take the germ of an idea, let it ruminate in your head, check out sources, sniff out leads and let it stew before you finally take it all and put it on paper.

That’s the time you tell reception to screen/block all calls, you drink enough coffee to make the entire office reek and nothing registers at all when people talk to you. “Erna, what do you think about the new Brand X All Singing Notebook?” “Mmmhmm Waah Ah Mumblemumblegoawaymumble”.

PR is a different sort of thing. Instead you start a thunderstorm in your head and just start catching the ideas that spark. Then you try and rearrange them to make some sort of sense.

So there are things I can’t do anymore. Like hang out on Facebook practically all day. Or blog anytime I want to.

It’s all about focus, discipline and completion. Now I’ve got to stop blogging because I have a few possible pitches to ruminate about over coffee. Mummble mhmmhcoffeegaaahmmmmh yes.

Well, I am starting from scratch

January 8, 2009 Amusing No comments

dummy

Just to make sure I get grounded in the basics, my colleague passed me the book you see in the picture.

It is a really good read, with a lot of food for thought in it. It’s not like I got a primer when I started out as a journalist. “Here’s a printer, Erna, and our review guidelines. There’s the lab. Have fun! Oh and I need the review ASAP.”

But I know a lot of my friends are going to get a kick out of the book anyway! I am going into the industry knowing I’m still wet behind the ears so yes, I’m anticipating that the learning curve will be quite a ride.

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